


Reserve

by kinsale_42



Series: McHanzo [10]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Angst, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, medically-appropriate drug use, mention of Gabriel Reyes | Reaper, this was supposed to be a spy thriller but became a study of how four men relate to one another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinsale_42/pseuds/kinsale_42
Summary: Jack asks Hanzo to help him on a remote observation mission, and Jesse feels a bit left out, on top of dealing with the recurring insomnia and troubling dreams he seems to experience more frequently when away from his lover. When something goes wrong on the job, help arrives from unexpected quarters, and Jesse has already positioned himself to be readily available. Then it's just a matter of everyone surviving the fallout without killing each other in the meantime.re·serve: -something kept back or held available-something set aside for a particular purpose, use, or reason-self-restraint, closeness, or caution in one's words and bearing toward others :  self-control in expression-forbearance from making a full explanation, complete disclosure, or free expression of one's mind-archaic:  a case of withholding information or knowledge; also:  a piece of information not fully disclosed(from Merriam-Webster Unabridged)
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: McHanzo [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/925497
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	1. Contact

_ “Secure connection established.” _

“Seventy-six.”

“Forty-five. I have been approached by a potential informant.”

“Anything useful?”

“Nothing actionable at present. It’s mostly historical, and I have an independent source that can verify at least one item. It seems like an attempt to build credibility, and I’d like to run some background checks. I’ll send you a copy of the file.”

“Sounds good. I'm looking into setting up a surveillance op right now. It looks like some sort of high-security cache is being built, and I’d like to get some eyes on it.”

“Right, just give me a shout when you need me.”

“I want you to act as remote facilitator on this one.”

“Uh, okay. You usually call me up for surveillance ops.”

“I know, but I’ve got someone in mind for this one that’s local, and has a specialized set of skills and tools that will be more applicable.”

“I see.”

“And your abilities with information referencing will be invaluable, and unfortunately very difficult for you to perform on site. The location is very isolated, and even accessing satellite comms will be limited. Don’t worry, my pick is quite capable, if he accepts the offer. Friend of yours.”

“...I see. I expect he’ll agree to join you. Do you want me to have a word?”

“I’ve just dropped him a message today. I’ll let you know if he needs some convincing. It’ll be a small team and should be a quiet, low-impact job. And like I said before, I’ll have you on standby remote support.”

“Right. Okay. I’ll be waiting for further instructions.”

“Roger that. Seventy-six out.”

“Sayonara.”

“ _ Secure connection terminated.” _

  
  


*

It took a little while for Jesse to realize he was awake and staring into the darkness. The silence of the night pressed down on him, viscous and suffocating. He kicked off the blanket and staggered into the bathroom, the intense frustration that still lingered from his dreams merging with the frustration of being unable to sleep. He relieved himself, then ran cold water in the sink, so cold it made his hand ache and jolted straight through him when he splashed it on his face.

The clock in the kitchen confirmed his estimation of the time with its soft blue glow. Jesse’d made it three hours before his subconscious mind had begun to torture him again. He sighed heavily and got himself a glass of water to counteract the sour taste in his mouth.

Glass in hand, he stood at the end of the empty bed. It was too empty. He frowned in the darkness. What had happened to that man who didn’t need, no, didn’t  _ want _ anyone in his life? After nearly two years of growing intimacy, he now discovered he definitely needed and wanted someone at his side, so long as that person was Hanzo Shimada. Jesse felt like he almost couldn’t breathe without him. It had been two weeks since Hanzo went home, and it wasn’t getting any easier.

He had to stop himself throwing the glass against the wall. Instead, he returned to the kitchen and refilled his glass with something significantly stronger than water, and carried both the bottle and the glass into the living room to wait for the sunrise.

  
  


*

"Hey babe, you left yet?" 

"We are traveling now."

"Ah, okay. Well, I just wanted to tell you to have a nice trip, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

A pause. "That does not eliminate much."

Jesse laughed. "You're catching on. Anyway, have fun, stay safe, and call me when you get back, 'kay?" 

"I will. Thank you."

"Alright. Love you, pumpkin."

Another pause. Jesse knew Jack could hear everything Hanzo said, and even if he wasn't incredibly unforthcoming with the "love yous" already, having company would stop him saying it. 

"Yes. You too. Goodbye."

Jesse smiled to himself. "Bye." He listened for the click as the connection dropped, then pulled up the signal trace application and verified the coordinates. They were in line with his hunches. 

"Right, right. Definitely looking like they're heading for that place Jack's got up in the Cascades." He scratched his beard. 

On the one hand, it seemed like an out-of-the-way spot for anything to happen that required observation, but if he remembered rightly, aside from the old abandoned mines, which were useful for so many things, there was an intact hydroelectric plant up in those parts, and that would make the area a magnet for omnics and those interested in omnics. He glanced at his watch and returned his attention to packing. He'd fine-tune his target once he got closer. 

Still, awfully convenient for Jack to already have a foothold established, if that was indeed where they were headed. Jesse chuckled softly. But then, he wasn't supposed to know about that little cabin in the woods, was he? 

He looked at his phone again, its screen now black. "Damn, I miss you, Han."


	2. Shelter

"It's not fancy, but it's dry and warm, and the few folks around here recognize me as the owner of the place, so we won't attract attention by being here." Jack threw his bag down on the couch and began his usual walk-through to assess the operational state of the electrical and plumbing systems in the cabin. "And we’re just a couple of miles over the ridge from the old mine shaft complex that Talon has recently developed an interest in."

Hanzo stood just inside the door of the tiny a-frame chalet, mapping it out in his mind. The living area was big enough for a couch, a fireplace, a comfortable chair, and a small table with two chairs. There was a tiny kitchenette tucked in the back corner under what Hanzo guessed was a sleeping loft, accessible by a slanted ladder that ran up through the ceiling next to the kitchen cabinets. He watched as Jack ducked through a door next to the kitchen, and, judging by the sounds of running water, surmised that it was the bathroom. 

Jack returned to the main room, wiping his hands on a small towel. "Think you can stick it out for a week? I know I'm not much company, but there's work to be done."

Hanzo gave a brief nod. The accommodations were better than many he'd been forced to endure since he left the comforts of his family enclave. "It is acceptable."

"Good," Jack replied. "Because I don't really have any alternatives to offer." He draped the towel over the back of a chair and reached into his coat pocket to retrieve a folded map. As he opened the map and spread it on the table, he gestured for Hanzo to come see. 

"Here's where the cabin is, and here's the old coal mines." His finger traced a line between the two points. "There's a trail that crosses the ridge and drops down to the river here. My plan is for you to be here on the south bank, where you can get a clear view of the activity at the top of the road, and I'll be here, a quarter mile or so to the west. I've got fishing gear, so I have a cover story for being on the river, and there's some good solid trees and various rock outcroppings that you can use as vantage points."

"I see. What information am I to collect?" Hanzo surveyed the locations that Jack had indicated, noting the terrain as described by the map's contour lines. 

"See if you can tell what they're using the shafts for, what kind of personnel are in place and how many. From my position, I will be able to see the road coming in, and watch the traffic on it. I wanted your help because you can climb more easily than I can, and obviously we get more data with two viewpoints."

"I see." Hanzo wondered briefly why Genji could not have easily served the same purpose, but he had to assume that Jack Morrison knew what he was doing. 

"I'll have to move up and down the river a bit, and set up at places where fishing would actually be appropriate, which is a bit limiting. But on the plus side, if I actually catch anything, we'll have fresh fish to eat." Jack almost cracked a smile. "I just wanted to give you an overview of the situation so you'd have time to think about it. I'll get dinner going if you'd like to settle in. You can take the bed in the loft, and I'll take the couch."  _ I barely sleep, anyway,  _ Jack finished mentally. 

Hanzo's gaze flicked to the sofa and back to Jack, and the resulting size calculations made him uncomfortable. "I could not possibly… It is only right for you to take the better place." 

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Jack said before Hanzo totally overestimated his hospitality. "It's a fold-out couch. Quite a nice one, in fact." He went on, when Hanzo did not seem convinced, "Really, it's fine. And if you want to know the truth, I don't get more than a few hours' sleep a night anyway."

Hanzo considered this for a moment, then nodded his acquiescence and headed for the ladder with his gear as Jack put the map back in his pocket and turned towards the kitchen.

*

It was still and quiet in the near-darkness of the loft as Hanzo lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come. Once they’d cleaned up the dinner dishes, Jack had lit a fire in the odd little free-standing fireplace and now its dying light was just a faint glow through the hole in the floor. The bed was unfamiliar, as was the sound of the wind brushing through the trees outside, but the resinous scent of the wood from which the cabin was built--so much stronger here up under the peak of the roof--was comforting. It made him think of home. There was the soft patter of raindrops against the roof, and a whisper of a sigh from downstairs as Jack, too, struggled to find peace.

The reminder that he was up here in the remote wilderness, alone but for a man who was practically a stranger, made Hanzo’s heart twist in his chest. He missed Jesse more in this moment than he had since he’d returned home from New Mexico. If sleep was not going to come, his mind should be on this new mission, but no, instead he was consumed by the desire to feel his lover’s skin against his own, wishing for the sound of Jesse breathing beside him to lull him into slumber. But there was nothing for it, so Hanzo curled around his pillow, squeezing it tight to his chest and pressing his face into the smooth cotton case. 

*

The sun had already dropped behind the western ridges, though true sunset was more than an hour off. Beneath a tiny square of bright sky, tall conifers crowded around the cabin and its patch of velvety grass, pulling the dusk even closer, but the air was cool and sweet and Hanzo filled his lungs with it, trying to shake off the weariness of the first long day. The door clicked closed behind him, and he turned to see Jack with two steaming mugs in his hands. Hanzo accepted one as Jack sat down near him on the top porch step.

“This is my favorite part of being up here, I think,” Jack said. “Watching the night come down.”

Hanzo took a careful sip of the hot beverage. The appealing fragrance of the steam had not prepared him for the punch of intense flavor, but the sweetness and the heat of it suited their surroundings somehow.

“This is good.” Hanzo indicated his mug.

“Apple cider,” replied Jack. “It’s from a packet. Nothing fancy, but it’ll warm you up.”

“The fish was also good. Do not try to tell me it came from a packet.”

Jack laughed softly. “No, that wasn’t from a packet. Thank you.” He relaxed against the railing next to him and cast his eyes up past the edge of the porch roof to the clear blue sky above. He took a sip of his cider. “Yeah, fishing is good right now. Never had so much luck.”

The atmosphere felt a bit lighter, the chunks of silence more companionable. Jack had been worried that Hanzo would remain solemn-verging-on-hostile for the whole assignment, but the sincere compliment and the small attempt at humor gave him hope. He had to assume that Hanzo did not actively hate him, because there was little incentive for him to have accepted this job otherwise, but the natural reticence on both sides made it difficult to know for sure. On the other hand, one of the reasons he'd wanted Hanzo for this job in the first place was their minimal amount of established history. It was somehow less demanding. 

“How is it that you have established a refuge so convenient for this job?” Hanzo asked. “Did you not tell me that this activity is recent?”

“That, my friend, is a question for the ages. I've had this cabin for years and years. The only person connected to the organization that ever knew about this place was one Gabriel Reyes.” Jack thought for a minute. “I reckon if anyone else knew it was probably Jesse. He has always had a gift for finding out things we didn’t want anyone to know about. Lucky for him, he’s also good at keeping his mouth shut. Anyway, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about that myself, and the only good answer I can come up with is that Reyes himself arranged for this particular site to be chosen.” He rubbed the bristles on his chin. “I don’t know, it just seems too good to be coincidental.”

Hanzo considered this explanation. “Hmmph.”

They sat quietly for a some time. Jack set his empty cup down. It was gradually approaching full dark, and the glow from the cabin windows lit them from behind.

“What is it…” Hanzo began, then stopped, unsure if he wanted to continue.

Jack looked over at him, the backlighting outlining the graceful curve of an ear and the strong arch of his neck.

Hanzo steeled himself, and finished his question. “What is so special about Reyes?” He pronounced the name carefully, and not without some suggestion of distaste. “Why does everyone revere him so?”

There was a long stretch of silence as Jack struggled to find the simplest way to explain such a complex topic, to cover half a century in a sentence or two. 

"My apologies," Hanzo said at last. "I should not have asked such a personal question."

"No, no, it's not that. You have every right to know, seeing as how you're getting dragged all over the globe as we track him. It's just… Well, frankly, it's tough to summarize." Jack rubbed his chin. "I guess I'd say that he catches you with his confidence. He knows what he wants, he knows how to get it, and he's willing to do whatever it takes. He's a natural leader. Add to that 'intelligent, attractive, and a bit of a bad boy,' and you've got a recipe for trouble."

"And you chase him now because he is a dangerous weapon in the hands of the enemy?" 

"I chase him now because I know what he's trying to do, and I don't think it will work. But I have to constantly check and recheck my assumptions, because it's like he's playing four-dimensional chess while I'm playing dominoes. And Gabe always had a way of getting you to do something and letting you think it was your idea." Jack glanced back over at Hanzo, who was staring down at his fingers as he listened. "Yeah, he's a dangerous weapon. I doubt he allows anyone to truly control him, though."

Hanzo looked up. "And knowing him as you do, you do not believe this is a trap?" 

"The thought had occurred to me. But I get the feeling there's something he wants me to see, some details I need to know." Jack picked up his cup. "Some days I think he hates me now, and believes I tried to kill him. Wants to kill me. Some days I'm just not sure." He stood up and went inside. 

Hanzo stared out into the night one last time, and then followed him into the cabin. 

*

Jesse pulled his hoverbike off the road and took out his phone to check the latest road conditions. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time before opening up the maps. He’d make Hanzo’s apartment by sunrise if the passes were clear, but autumn was moving in swiftly and the best pass for his needs was the one at the highest elevation. Two nights on the road had done a lot to clear his head, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he was really looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed, so making good time through the mountains would be to his advantage. He let out a long breath in relief when he saw his route was still good, and settled in for another long stretch of riding to the summit.

Dawn was just creeping up behind him as he parked his bike in the garage and grabbed his gear. The sharp frost of an arctic front cut straight through his leathers and his fingers were numb as they fumbled with straps and latches. But inside Hanzo’s building it was warm and dry, and by the time he opened the door to the apartment, Jesse could feel the old familiar exhaustion replacing the chill.

The apartment was dark and silent, as expected, and Hanzo had made sure everything was tidy before leaving. What Jesse hadn’t anticipated, not quite, was the sudden sensation of weight falling from his body. This felt right, being here. He’d wait here and Hanzo would be back in a few days, and he could be at peace again for a while. He could go back to ignoring the apparitions that haunted his memory.

Jesse dropped his bag in the walk-in closet on his way to turn on the shower, but the sight of Hanzo’s favorite robe hanging on the hook by the door made him pause. He touched it carefully, and his fingertips felt rough and dry against the soft fabric. Before he could even think about it, he’d buried his face in it, and it smelled so like Hanzo that he was hit by a longing fierce enough it made his eyes water. 

In that moment, all the friends and family, all the lovers he’d ever lost, they flooded in, pounding on the walls of his soul. No, no, no, that was just his heartbeat. And he hadn’t lost Hanzo. Hanzo was living and breathing and warm, and just an hour and a half away, by his reckoning. Sleep, he needed sleep; he was losing his grip on reality. Jesse let the robe fall from his fingers and stumbled into the bathroom to clean up. Twenty minutes later, damp and warm and naked from a shower, he slid under the covers and pressed his face into his lover’s pillow.

It hadn't been quite four hours before Jesse rolled over and stretched out his arm to the other side of the bed. When it came down on cold emptiness, he jolted awake. 

"Fuck," he muttered. He scrubbed at his eyes and grabbed his phone from where he'd left it by the bed. No missed calls, no messages. How many days had it been since Jack and Hanzo had gone up into the mountains? Traveling nights instead of days had him all messed up, but he'd expected some news by now. He really was getting older. Had to be day four since they'd left. Why hadn't he heard anything? He was supposed to be remote support, dammit. 

Jesse kicked off the duvet and dressed himself as he wandered into the kitchen. The refrigerator was practically empty, as Hanzo usually left it for a long op. But this op was only supposed to be a week, right? Jesse was beginning to wonder if there was something going on he didn't know about or if the sleep deprivation was really hitting him that hard. Maybe Hanzo just hadn't done much shopping in the couple of weeks between leaving New Mexico and going on the job. That was probably it. He'd simply have to go pick up some supplies himself. Jesse opened the pantry cupboard. At least there was coffee… 


	3. Near the wind

The sky above was equal parts clear blue and wind-blown shreds of woolly white, and the breeze had just the hint of a bite to it as it ruffled through the trees that screened Hanzo’s perch. He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind his ear, but the wind pulled it right back out, flinging it across his face. Hanzo shifted his weight as he crouched on the uneven surface of the stone outcropping, stabilizing himself so he could raise both arms without overbalancing, and attempted to weave the errant lock back into the rest of his hair. But between the natural resilience of his hair and the gusty temperament of the breeze, all this accomplished was freeing more hair to whip into his eyes.

Hanzo sighed heavily and pulled out his hair elastic, never moving his gaze from where a nondescript box truck was approaching the top of the mine access road. This was what they’d been hoping to see, a vehicle too large to enter the mine proper, requiring it to be unloaded outside, where Hanzo could put his eyes on what sort of freight was being stashed in the tunnels. He couldn’t afford to let anything distract him. His fingers worked swiftly, smoothing and twisting his shoulder-length hair back up into the neat bundle he’d started the day with.

Only, this time the hair elastic decided it had had quite enough, and it snapped as he tried to loop it securely, stinging his fingers. Hanzo swore softly. Did absolutely everything have to go wrong today? He dug through his pockets, one eye on the activity across the valley, searching for another hair elastic, or a plain rubber band, or anything, really, that would keep his hair out of his face for the next half hour. At last he was forced to admit defeat. All he could put his hands on was the long printed-silk ribbon that he usually wore with his yukata. It was grossly inappropriate for stealth work, but he had little choice except to try and secure it so it would not blow loose and attract attention. He looked at the ribbon and sighed, then pushed his unruly hair back as he returned to watching the truck.

Once again his fingers worked furiously to ensure every lock was securely bound with the rest as he tied the golden ribbon around a simple ponytail. He stuffed the long ends of the ribbon down the back of his jacket, after loosely bunching them together, and was at last able to return his full attention to the activity at the mine. Hanzo picked up his bow and peered through the scope to get a magnified view of the cardboard boxes as they were unloaded. The print on the brown boxes was too small to be read from such a distance, but he could just make out what looked like a red cross on the side of one. As he watched, he saw a figure close the doors on the back of the truck and signal to the driver. The truck began to drive away, and Hanzo pulled out his notepad and recorded the number and type of cartons he could see from his viewpoint, and indicating the possible medical nature of the freight. It filled the rest of the page where he had written down earlier observations on staffing and site layout.

As he bent his head, the wind slipped its wayward fingers beneath the slippery, soft tails of his ribbon, plucking them free from where Hanzo had stashed them inside his collar. The golden silk flew out over his shoulder, unnoticed, catching the early autumn sunlight as it danced on the whimsical air currents. For just a moment, as Hanzo tucked his notebook back into his pocket, it was a perfect afternoon. Simple work, beautiful scenery, perfect weather. The trees creaked in the breeze, and the sweet scent of douglas fir warming in the sun surrounded him. The difficulties of earlier in the day faded right away.

*

The sniper stifled a yawn. It had been another long, pointless shift in the watch tower in a long, pointless week. There was no one out here to worry about, aside from that fly fisherman she’d spotted down in the river a couple of days back, but even he had moved on downstream, out of range of her rifle. She glanced at her chrono. Still forty-five minutes on her scheduled shift. It’d probably be more like an hour and a half, judging by how the last few shifts had gone. She flexed her legs, trying to restore the circulation to her toes, as she looked out over the loading zone for the thousandth time. The drones and grunts had finished unloading the truck and were logging the inventory, the supervisors were standing around gossiping, and the bits of waste paper and plastic rubbish were swirling in the corners of the yard where the wind had trapped them. Nothing new there. 

She put her eye back to her scope and did a slow pan of the perimeter. Nothing moved, aside from the wind-tousled shrubs, mostly green with just a hint of red and gold. Fall was coming, she could taste it in the air, but it hadn’t been cold enough yet for the leaves to change much. The sniper adjusted her field of view out fifty yards and did another sweep. Another inventory. Trees. A short stretch of river before it curved out of sight. More trees. She dialed out another fifty yards. Then another fifty. It was the same thing, over and over, all day, all week. There had been no activity, suspicious or otherwise, since she’d been assigned to this depot, and she’d just about memorized each tree and shrub on this mountain. She wondered idly if the fisherman had caught anything, or if he was just using fishing as an excuse to drink out of doors.

Then something unexpectedly bright fluttered at the edge of her field of vision, and without having to think, the sniper reacted as she had been trained. She snapped to the target and fired. The shot rang out across the valley and echoed back. Her eyes refocused, and she looked down the scope to see if she’d hit anything. All she saw was a bit of faded yellow ribbon tangled in some bushes, the tail of it spinning in the breeze.

“What was it?” Her commanding officer was at her elbow nearly before she’d even taken another breath. “Do we need to send out the clean-up crew?”

“I just saw something move and fired.” The sniper sat back, sighing, and waved her hand at the trash in the yard. “It was only an old piece of caution tape that escaped our little collection here. It’s nothing. Have a look.” She offered up her rifle. “Six hundred yards, two o’clock.”

Her supervisor looked where she’d indicated, then returned the weapon, nodding. “File a false alarm report. I want it on my desk before you leave for dinner. Good eye, though. Keep it up.” He headed back to his post and reported an all clear, no clean-up code to his supervisor.

The sniper groaned inwardly, mentally adding another half hour to her shift. She reminded herself to stop being so good at her job, so that maybe she could get sent to do something more interesting than taking down a four foot section of caution tape at six hundred yards.

*

Hanzo was about to settle in for the long wait before the next truck made its way up the narrow road, when something made him look up at the watch tower. He knew it was manned; when the light hit just right, he could see the guards on duty. But now the sun was behind him and their figures were indistinct in the shadows. 

What was startlingly clear, however, was the moment when the sun caught the lens of a sniper’s scope. The single, blinding point of light was all the warning Hanzo had to dive out of the way, and his instinct did not fail him. Time and physics were not entirely on his side, however, and he felt the searing lance of the bullet as it crossed the outside of his thigh, well before he heard the report of the shot echo across the valley. He aimed for the spongy patch of ferns just a few feet below his lookout, but the impact of the bullet had thrown off his control, and his landing was more of a messy sprawl than a proper dive roll.

As it all happened, Hanzo could have sworn time slowed down. The flash of light, the leap, the fire across his leg, the grasping twigs of the undergrowth as he fell, he experienced them one by one, as distinct events. But by the time he hit the ground, it had all become a blur. It knocked the breath out of him, his heart was thumping, his hair was in his eyes, and he was trying desperately to hold his wound together as the blood drenched his hand. He fumbled with the toggle for his communicator. 

Jack had determined that they should only use the comms in an emergency, because the signal could be picked up by the Talon watch. Even though the encryption should protect the communication itself, the fact that there were encrypted transmissions at all in such a remote location would give away their presence. This was definitely an emergency, and Hanzo wished like hell he could have just left the mic on voice-activated service. 

Then, through the buzzing in his head, he heard someone crashing through the bushes behind him.

“Jack?” His voice fractured with too little air to support it.

There was a crackle in his ear as the comms came alive. “I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a minute.” It was all the information that Hanzo needed, and when his hand came back up from his side, it was holding his hunting knife up defensively.

“Hey, there, now. No need for that. I saw you fall and I came to see if you needed help.” The voice was unfamiliar, but the face...Hanzo had seen the stranger’s face before. His eyelids flickered as he tried to recall, and his knife-hand wavered.

The dark-skinned man was pulling a small electronic device from his bag. “We haven’t been introduced properly, I’m afraid. You can call me Baptiste, that will do for now. You’re the one who was with McCree, right? Do you mind if I scan you for injuries?” Like all good medics, he had a cheery manner to put the patient at ease while he handled the seriousness of the situation himself.

Hanzo was confused, but managed a reply. “Yes...no...I think...I am shot.” He gulped back the terror that hit him when he confirmed what had actually happened to him. “Hanzo,” he said, his head spinning. “I am Hanzo.” He lowered the knife, and focused all his energy on carefully resheathing it. 

Baptiste had already seen where Hanzo pressed a bloody hand to his thigh, and did not disturb it while he scanned the rest of his patient for other serious injuries. “And that looks like the worst of it, Hanzo.” He slipped his scanner back into his pack and pulled out some first aid supplies. “One bullet wound and a few scrapes and bruises, but no bones broken or other internal injuries. I’m going to patch you up real quick and then we’ll get you somewhere safe where I can clean out the wound and suture it, okay?”

Hanzo was nodding when he heard more commotion, this time approaching from the other direction. Baptiste barely paused in his ministrations, moving Hanzo’s hand and swiftly packing the wound with gauze and taping a temporary protective dressing over the whole area. “You must be Jack,” he said after glancing at the newcomer.

“Who the hell are you?” Jack demanded, a pistol in one hand and a biotic canister in the other.

Baptiste shoved the unused supplies back in his bag, and slung it over his shoulder as he responded. “My name is Jean-Baptiste Augustin. You may call me Baptiste, and if you want us all to get out of here alive, I suggest we leave now. They will be coming for us. And you can put your biotic meds away, we don’t have time for them.” He bent to help Hanzo to his feet. “Come on, up with you. It’s going to hurt for a bit, but I need you coherent right now, okay? I’ll fix you up good once we get safe, I promise. Here, put your arm over my shoulder.”

Hanzo nodded and followed Baptiste’s directions. He looked at Jack, a mute appeal on his face. Jack snapped the canister back on his belt and picked up Hanzo’s bow where it had fallen. 

“Was there anything else, Hanzo?” 

“No, I have my bag and quiver,” Hanzo whispered. 

Jack took a breath, and assumed control of the situation. “Right, follow me.”


	4. Fragmentation

“You can keep your biotics, I don’t require any. And you’re in my light.” Baptiste shooed Jack away, then returned to cutting away the fabric of Hanzo’s tactical pants and carefully removing the temporary bandages from his leg. Baptiste had realized who Jack was as soon as he'd come thundering through the underbrush, but even a former strike commander could not divert him from giving needed medical attention.

“We’ll need him able to fight, if what you say is true.” Jack had backed off, but he wasn’t giving up that easily.

Baptiste gave him a look. “You know as well as I do that even if we healed his wound, we would not be able to reverse the amount of stress hormones he’s produced in the last hour without tranquilizers. He needs rest. And how many of those cans do you have here?”

“A dozen.” It had seemed like plenty when Jack made the pre-op assessment. He still thought it seemed like a lot, although now there would be more potential users.

“You will want them later.” Baptiste returned his full attention to his patient, unwilling to argue further.

They’d made it back to the cabin surprisingly quickly, considering. It was likely all down to Jack lifting Hanzo into a fireman’s carry and jogging the last half mile. This had, at least, given Hanzo’s leg a reprieve, and time for the tears that he could not suppress to dry on his face.

Now Hanzo was dizzy, stretched out on the sofa bed mattress with his leg propped up. Everything was surreal, even the pain. Baptiste had still not given him any medicine, and he was too proud to ask. The words that came out when he did speak were never quite what he expected, anyway, although apparently still intelligible enough.

“Okay, Hanzo, I’m going to clean the wound now. You’re going to feel some pressure, and it will hurt a little, okay?”

Hanzo nodded, and he could feel his hair tangling between his cheek and the pillow. Jack watched from where he leaned against the kitchen table, minding the medic’s directions to stay out of the way, although it clearly irritated him to do so.

“How bad is it, doc?” Jack had seen plenty of bullet wounds in his time, and if Baptiste would just let him see it, he’d be able to judge for himself. 

Baptiste tossed aside a dirty piece of gauze. “It’s not bad. Sliced across the outside of the muscle, about seven centimeters or so in length, maybe six or seven millimeters deep. It will leave a nice scar but shouldn’t cause any trouble later, if it heals well.”

Jack picked up the biotic canister again, but Baptiste gave him a look and he set it back down. 

“I’m going to suture the wound closed. I apologize, Hanzo, but this is going to have to be done using the old methods.” Baptiste picked up a syringe and drew a dose of clear liquid out of a tiny vial. “This is an anesthetic, to numb your leg up a bit so I can stitch more easily. The injection is going to feel like a nasty bee sting, though, so I want you to be prepared for it.” He signaled to Jack to come around to the end of the bed. “Hold his leg steady, will you?”

Hanzo closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, and when the needle went in it hurt like hell for a few seconds, but Jack’s hands on his calf were oddly comforting, and then the anesthetic began to take effect and it was as if a whole chunk of his leg was suddenly not his own. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. He opened his eyes to see Baptiste threading a suturing needle.

“My leg...will I still be able to dance?” Hanzo had no idea what made him ask such a thing. What he really wanted to know was if his injury would affect his flexibility, but somehow it came out weird, like his brain chose the simplest word to describe why he would need a full range of movement.

Baptiste chuckled. “Yes, you should have no trouble on the dance floor. I fully expect to see you in Rio for Carnaval next year. Okay, you will feel some pressure. If it hurts, tell me. I will try to be careful but I also want to be fast so I can finish before the anesthetic wears off.”

Hanzo nodded again. “Okay.” Now all he had to do was continue to keep it together. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was some bizarre alternate reality. The blood had almost made him pass out before, but he couldn’t see it now. He would get through it.

“This the worst you’ve ever been hurt, Hanzo?” Jack was no longer bracing his leg, but a hand still rested there, warm, just above his ankle.

“I have had knife wounds, but none so serious.” Knife wounds. Sword wounds. Bloody hands. Hanzo stopped the train of thought in its tracks. “I have never been shot.”

“Ah, well, you got lucky. This is practically nothing.” Jack said, trying to put Hanzo at ease.

“I am glad,” Hanzo replied, in a hoarse whisper that did not sound remotely happy.

Baptiste continued to stitch. “About halfway there, Hanzo. Nice even sutures too, if I do say so myself. I clearly should have gone into tailoring.” He paused and looked at his patient’s face. Hanzo looked decidedly more green than he had ten minutes before. Time to change the subject. “I suppose McCree told you boys about me? And my questionable life choices?”

Hanzo nodded as Jack spoke. 

“Yes, I recognized the name. Bit of a rebel, aren’t you?” 

“You could call it that. Let’s just say I realized that my goals did not coincide with that of my employer.” Baptiste put in the last suture and tied off the filament, snipping it close with a tiny pair of scissors. He reached for some ointment and a sterile dressing.

Jack continued the conversation. “What are you doing up here then?”

“Much the same as you, I expect. Watching my former employer build a cache of illicit goods.” Baptiste wrapped some gauze over the dressing and then a self-adhesive bandage over the gauze to hold it in place. He met Jack’s eye. “Have you figured out what they’re stockpiling yet?” he asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew.

It was Hanzo that had the answer. “Medical supplies,” he whispered. He remembered the box with the red cross on it. And why else would Baptiste be so interested? 

The medic nodded at him. “Not just medical supplies, but  _ counterfeit _ medical supplies. They’re shipping that trash to desperate people on the front lines of this new crisis, and turning an almighty profit.” He laughed bitterly. “I can’t believe I ever thought joining Talon was a good idea.”

“We all make choices we’re not proud of.” Jack stood up and cracked his knuckles. “You did good for us today, though. Thank you. Mostly for the medical assistance, but also for the information.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Baptiste rummaged in his kit again. “I will stay the night here, if you don’t mind, with my patient. If they did not find us in the first hour, they will wait until dark and come for us in the night. I would rather not leave you to defend this place alone.”

Jack’s eyes flicked to Hanzo and back to Baptiste. He’d read the files McCree had sent, and afterwards had done some vetting of his own. If what he’d dug up about this fellow was even half right, he’d be a valuable ally in a firefight. He nodded. “Good. Now, I’ve got to run down the road a ways so I can get a signal and make a call. I’ll be back in no more than ten minutes. Make yourself at home.”

Baptiste gave his assent, then turned to Hanzo with another syringe in his hand. “Now, for the fun part. I’ve got some pain medication for you, like I promised. Just a little poke…”

Hanzo sighed as the warmth of the morphine flooded his system.

*

The late afternoon sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds as Jesse secured his groceries on the back of his bike. The wind had picked up even since he'd gone into the store. He slid into the saddle and flipped the brake and stabilizer toggles, but just as he lifted his foot to kick the starter, Jesse heard his phone. Security pips. Jack. He flicked the toggles back to off, and pulled out his phone. 

"Hey, I was wonderin' when you'd get around to calling me. Took ya long enough."

"Jesse." Jack sounded out of breath, but even so, the no-time-for-messing-around tone rang clear. Jesse's heart leapt into his throat. 

"What happened? What's going on?" 

"We had a near miss. Hanzo's down, but it's not serious."

"I'll be there in an hour." Jesse flipped the switches on again. "What happened? How bad is it?" 

"I haven't even given you a location. And it was a near miss, I told you. A gunshot, but just a graze." Jack was able to manage two simultaneous conversation threads as well as anyone. 

"A graze? With a bullet? So help me Jack…I should have been up there too, dammit. And I know where you are. I'll be there in an hour. Hour and a half, tops." Jesse hung up and kicked the starter of his bike with far more force than necessary. It roared to life beneath him as he pocketed his phone, and he swore long strings of curses as he began to imagine all the pain he'd like to inflict on Jack Morrison for letting Hanzo get hurt. 


	5. Bunker

Jesse pulled up next to the nondescript utility vehicle parked in the gravel driveway and scrutinized the cabin in the fading light of dusk. A shadow detached itself from the wall by the front door and came forward towards him. Jesse switched off the motor and dismounted in one smooth motion, and strode purposefully across the patch of soft grass. 

"You said it wasn't a dangerous job, Jack," Jesse hissed, grabbing the collar of Jack's fishing vest and forcing him sharply backwards against the wall. "You said you didn't need support staff or firepower. You said it was ‘just observation’." Jesse underlined his words with an additional shove against the unyielding timber of the cabin. Behind him the door opened and another figure joined them, summoned by the noise.

"Jesse…" Jack didn't get a chance to continue. Jesse's fist met his jaw and stars exploded before his eyes. Then there was a scuffle as Baptiste tried to restrain the raging cowboy. 

"Get off me," Jesse growled and shook off Baptiste's hands, surprised to discover the identity of the referee. "And what the hell are you doing here?"

"Leave him," Jack told Baptiste. "It's fine. I'm fine." 

"I'm just crashing the party," replied Baptiste. "Nice to see you too."

Jack knew Jesse's anger stemmed from his fear about Hanzo, and his feelings of being inadequate to protect the people he cared most about. He'd seen it enough, hell, he'd lived it too much himself. And maybe a tiny part of himself didn't mind the abuse directed at him if it made up in any way for his own failure to honor his promises. He was quite sure that he was broken inside himself, and wouldn't be surprised in the least if he got off on Jesse's rage somehow. 

"He's inside. Baptiste patched him up good and gave him some meds, and now he's resting comfortably." Jack finally finished what he’d started to say before he was interrupted. Jesse’s manner shifted noticeably.

"So what happened exactly?" Jesse lowered his voice to match his recovered restraint. 

"He caught a sniper's bullet across the outside of his leg. The way he described it was that he saw the reflection off the sniper's scope and dived for cover. He was very lucky." Jack watched as Jesse processed the information. "There was nothing any of us could have done to shield him. But now you’re here, we can use your help.”

Baptiste spoke again, his voice lower than usual, trying to avoid being overheard. "If they are looking for the mark that got away, they will come in the night. We could not avoid leaving a trail entirely. They will see which direction we took."

"Hmmm," was Jesse's only reply. Jack opened the cabin door to lead everyone inside, but Jesse turned on his heel and went back to his bike. He returned with an armful of paper bags. "What? You called me before I made it home with my groceries." Jack lifted an eyebrow and followed him inside, rubbing his already-recovering jaw. 

Jesse had set his bags down and was on his knees next to the sofa bed almost before the door was closed. Hanzo was lying on his side, his knee propped up on a pillow to keep his leg relaxed. Baptiste had helped him change into a pair of shorts for easy access to the dressing, and Jack had gotten a fire going in the fireplace to keep him warm. Jesse felt his heart stumble when he saw the bandages and the paleness of the skin they crossed. He tossed his coat and hat aside and leaned down to gather Hanzo gently into his arms, and all the emotions he’d recently been fighting so unsuccessfully rushed to his face like liquid flame as he pressed it against the soft skin of his lover’s neck.

Hanzo’s eyes opened at Jesse’s touch, and he drew Jesse closer, one hand sliding up into his wind-frazzled hair and the other pressed into his back. Jesse’s body gave a great shudder, and even through the medicinal haze, Hanzo could recognize it as a sob. He stroked Jesse’s head.

“It is okay. I am okay.” He wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but he knew Jesse needed to hear it.

Jesse pulled back just far enough to look into Hanzo’s face. His eyes were glistening, and Hanzo’s neck felt damp, but Hanzo made no indication that he noticed either.

“I can’t lose you,” Jesse murmured, and his fear was there, plain to see, in his expression.

Hanzo swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. “You will not,” he replied. His gaze never strayed from Jesse’s as he spoke. “I love you.”

Jesse smiled, though more tears threatened to burst free. He stroked Hanzo’s cheek, then leaned down for a brief, quiet kiss. He felt stronger, now, and like he was coming back down to earth.

“Hey, are you hungry? Have they bothered to feed you since you got hurt? I brought some things with me...I could make you something.”

Hanzo had not even considered food for hours, but now just the mention of it made him realize he was starving. “Please.”

Jesse got to his feet. “Just give me a few, ‘kay?”

Hanzo nodded and relaxed back on his pillows as Jesse started unpacking his groceries on the table, where Jack and Baptiste had been sitting looking at maps and trying not to eavesdrop on the intimate moment.

“Y’all have soy sauce up here, right?”

Jack nodded. “Right in front of you on the table.”

Jesse moved an empty sack and located the soy sauce. “Ah. And sugar?”

“Next to the coffee pot on the counter.”

“Cool, thanks.” Jesse carried the items he wanted over to the counter and began to rummage through the cupboard looking for pans and utensils. If he was embarrassed about being publicly emotional, he was hiding it well.

“So,” he began in a conversational tone as he used a pair of chopsticks to whisk up a couple of eggs. “You boys want to tell me why nobody has bothered to drop a med canister for Hanzo? He’d be all healed up by now, surely.”

Baptiste groaned inwardly. What was it with these Overwatch types and their over-dependence on expensive tech? “There’s a number of very good reasons, actually. First, we did not have time at the scene to get the full benefit from a canister. Second, I wanted to make certain the wound was thoroughly clean before it closed, and again, time was of the essence.”

Jack remembered the odd wound he’d gotten in Egypt, and how even his nano-boosted immune system couldn’t completely heal until all the shot was removed. He was starting to come over to Baptiste’s line of reasoning at last, and repeated what the medic had said to him earlier. 

“By the time we got back here, there would have been too much cortisol in his system for him to be combat-ready even if we healed his wound completely. Besides, if Talon does come after us in the night, as Baptiste believes, we’ll want as many canisters available as possible.” Jack made a mental note to ask the ex-Talon agent later what he knew about the life-draining technology that Reyes had acquired somewhere.

“What’s the plan, then? No attempt to make a swift exit? I mean, forgive me if I don’t trust you very far right now, Baptiste, but you’ve effectively handicapped our team. Not only is he still injured when he could have been healed up, you’ve drugged him. He’d be better off out of here completely.” Jesse’s eyes were on the egg in the skillet as he manipulated it, but part of his mind was working out the permutations of how the situation could unfold, given a number of different variables.

“We have to assume they are watching activity levels in the area, that they’ve got people watching the roads. It’s safer to keep quiet and play turtle. If we make it through the night, we should be able to scout in the morning. They’ve had eyes out here for at least three or four weeks before they brought in staff to manage the supply dump.” Baptiste looked at Jack. “How did you manage to set up out here, anyway?”

Jack sighed. This cabin wasn’t going to be much of a retreat anymore, now that everyone knew about it. “It’s my place. I was up here doing a little fishing when I noticed the first trucks head up that road to the old mine. I must have come in early enough to pass as part of the scenery.”

Jesse slid the egg out of the pan onto a plate and cut it swiftly into bite-sized pieces. He grabbed a clean pair of chopsticks and went back over to sit by Hanzo. Maybe Jack had got it right about not calling him up for this job in the first place. He had less and less patience for forced inactivity. Sitting and waiting for the bad guys to find them was not top of his list for great ways to spend a night.

“Here you go, love. Thought you’d like one of your comfort favorites.” 

Hanzo propped himself up at a better angle for eating, and took the plate from Jesse with surprise. “Tamagoyaki? You learned to make tamagoyaki. For me?” He took a bite, followed swiftly by a second and third bite. He really was far more hungry than he’d realized, and the simple egg dish was exactly what he needed.

“I had a little time on my hands after you left. I know it’s not as good as yours, but it’s surely better than starving to death.” Jesse was gratified to see how swiftly Hanzo cleaned the plate.

“I think it may be better than mine. It is very good.” Now that he had something in his belly, he was ready to sleep again. He held out his empty dish.

Jesse smiled and took the plate. “I’ll have to make it again sometime when you’re not high,” he said, winking, and took the plate back to wash it in the sink. 

Jack had already washed the skillet and started to cook some dinner for the rest of them. “I’m fixing some rice, too, if you want some, Hanzo.” But Hanzo had snuggled back down in the bed and pulled a blanket over himself, and his reply was more of a muffled grunt than anything.

As they ate, they discussed who would stand guard where, and whether or not they should risk putting a man outside in what sounded like an intensifying storm. Jesse washed up while Jack and Baptiste went over the cabin, making sure everything was secure and peering out every window for any changes in the surrounding forest before total darkness settled in.

“I would kill for a smoke right now," Jesse said, leaning on the back of the sofa as Jack tended to the fire. The wind whistled in the flue and every so often a torrent of heavy raindrops was flung at the cabin, but it was warm and snug inside. If it hadn’t been for Hanzo’s injury, and the ever-present threat of attack, Jesse would have been enjoying the evening immensely.

Jack stood up. "You really did come straight from the store, huh? Left without your cigar case?" 

Jesse shrugged. “I have my priorities.” His gaze fell to the sleeping figure below him. The silver threads in Hanzo’s black hair seemed more numerous tonight, the fine lines around his eyes more pronounced. Jesse reached down and adjusted the blanket closer over Hanzo’s shoulder. 

Jack watched as Jesse stifled a yawn of his own. He made an executive decision, and climbed the ladder to the loft. In a couple of minutes he was back downstairs, some clothing rolled up in one fist. 

"Here, Jess." Jack tossed the bundle at him and he caught it. "You get some rest. Baptiste and I can watch just fine, and we'll wake you if we need you." 

“Thanks," Jesse replied automatically as he unrolled the fabric. It was a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. "I really don't need to sleep, Jack. I'm fine." 

"Just humor me. Get comfortable, relax for a bit. Look after your boyfriend. If this were your to be your last night together, wouldn't you rather be next to him than pacing the floor and peeking sideways out of windows?" Jack wasn't convinced they would be attacked, but he wasn't entirely sure they were safe, either. Ultimately, he could tell from the shadows under Jesse's eyes that he hadn't been sleeping, and recognized the liability that presented. 

The idea apparently hit Jesse pretty hard, because his face immediately got very serious. "Right. Well. Think I'll just clean up real quick."

He headed into the bathroom and closed the door. Soon the sound of running water could be heard throughout the cabin.

Baptiste watched him go from where he’d settled near the front window. “Is he reliable, do you think?” he asked Jack.

The question surprised Jack, and he bristled a little. “He’s one of the best agents Overwatch ever produced.”

“And how long has it been since he went underground? Have you been keeping tabs on him the whole time?”

“Why do you doubt him? Because he got worked up over his partner getting hurt?” Jack leaned against the kitchen cabinets, but his energy was anything but relaxed.

Baptiste was not intimidated. “I think he seems on edge. Volatile.”

Jack sighed. “He’s just tired. Trust me, when the combat instincts kick in, he is one of the most focused team leaders you could get. He has deep reserves of strength, and he cares. A lot. I’d rather have someone who gets angry at injustice than someone who is unmoved.” Sometimes when Jack opened his mouth, he was surprised at the truths that fell out, unplanned. This was one of those times.

The water stopped, and with it, the discussion. Baptiste sensed there was hidden history here, but he was impressed that Jack would defend Jesse’s strengths where many would have shredded him for his faults the minute he was out of range of hearing, particularly after the altercation they’d had earlier. 

Jesse padded out of the bathroom wearing the pajamas Jack had given him, and laid his jeans and flannel shirt over the arm of the sofa. He went around and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress in front of Hanzo, and reached out to smooth the hair back off his cheek. 

Hanzo stirred at the touch. His eyes opened and he looked up at Jesse. 

"Hey, baby. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. How are you feeling?"

"Mm. Hurts." He shifted his leg slightly, and his face crinkled up with the discomfort. Jesse looked a question at Baptiste just as he got up from his chair and went for his pack. He fished out his medkit and brought it over. 

"Here," Baptiste said. He handed two tablets to Hanzo. "I'll get you a glass of water. These aren't quite as strong as the morphine, but they will last longer." He went to the sink and returned with the promised water. Speaking as much for Jesse’s benefit as Hanzo’s, he went on, "If we make it through the night, I'll set up a biotic regen field for you tomorrow, get you healed up enough to travel, okay? Then you can go home to recover."

Hanzo nodded and handed back the glass. But Baptiste wasn't ready to let him go back to sleep just yet. 

"Now, let's get you up for a bathroom break. Get the blood moving before you zonk out for a couple more hours." Between them, he and Jesse supported Hanzo for the short stroll around the couch to the bathroom. 

At the door, Jesse stared pointedly at Baptiste and said, "I've got this." Baptiste started to respond, but thought better of it and let Jesse take over. 

"Just let me know if you need a hand," he said, as the door closed in his face. 

"I will have a scar," Hanzo murmured as Jesse helped him adjust his clothing so he could relieve himself. His voice betrayed his apprehension. He felt damaged. 

"And it's gonna be beautiful, just like the rest of you. You do everything so well, I can't imagine you being bad at scars."

"Do you think so? What if it does not heal properly?" 

Jesse kissed his ear. "I know so. And you'll get one of Jack's canisters in the morning, and it will heal you up so fast it'll be like it never happened."

"Hmm," was all Hanzo said. He buttoned up again and washed his hands, and with his arm over Jesse's shoulders, they headed back to the sofa bed. Baptiste waited until Hanzo got settled again, then quickly checked that the dressing was still in place and there wasn't any fresh bleeding. Satisfied, he left Hanzo to Jesse and headed back to his chair. 

Jack was making coffee as Jesse climbed under the blanket next to Hanzo, and held him so close that the angles of Hanzo’s shoulder blades pressed into his chest. He could hear the bubbling sound of the machine and smell the unmistakable aroma, and it made him want some, but he was snuggled up behind Hanzo, being the big spoon for a change, and he didn't want to move. Jesse pressed his cheek against the back of Hanzo's neck, his hair like warm silk against Jesse's skin, and that was the last thing he was aware of. 

By the time Jack had poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over to the couch, Jesse and Hanzo were both fast asleep. 


	6. Awakening

The percolating of the coffee maker penetrated Jesse’s consciousness again, and he finally gave in to its siren call. Apparently his body desired caffeine more than sleep, so who was he to argue? He carefully disengaged himself from Hanzo and did his best to minimize the inrush of cool air as he moved away.

Jack was leaning against the kitchen counter next to the coffee pot, arms crossed over his chest, watching Jesse as he got out of bed and moved across the room.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Jesse yawned. “I couldn’t resist the coffee any longer. More important than sleep.” He accepted the mug that Jack handed him. When the machine was done brewing, he poured himself a cup. The steam alone fortified him, and with increased awareness, Jesse turned back to face the room. Baptiste was no longer sitting at the table, peeking sidelong out through the curtains. Jesse started to ask Jack where the medic had gotten off to when he realized what he was looking at. The world outside the curtains was no longer fully dark.

“Wait. What time is it?”

Jack looked at his watch. “Six twenty.”

Jesse glared at him with eyes still crinkled from sleep. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he growled. 

Unable to help himself, Jack smiled. “You were out cold. I figured you needed sleep more than we needed you sit around with us. I don’t think you moved all night.”

“What if something had happened?” Jesse knew as soon as he asked it that it was a pointless question. Clearly nothing had happened. The only remarkable event was that he had slept for nine hours straight. 

“Aside from the storm, it was a quiet night. No reason to wake you, but if there had been one, we would have. Obviously.” Jack poured his own coffee and stirred in two spoons of sugar. “You want some breakfast?”

Jesse shook his head. He wouldn’t be hungry for another couple of hours, at least. 

“Well, as soon as you can be ready, I need you to come out with me. I left my gear out near the river, and I want to do a quick recon of the incident site. Maybe see if we can put eyes on activity up at the mine. If they aren’t after us, I’d like to see what they’re doing instead.”

Jesse nodded, and applied himself to getting the coffee inside him more quickly. He was just finishing it when Baptiste came down the ladder from the loft.

“Well, I guess we got lucky. We made it through the night.” Baptiste was speaking to Jack and Jesse, but his eyes were on Hanzo. He picked up the single biotic canister that Jack had left sitting on the kitchen table and set it down next to the couch. Jesse watched as the medic touched his patient gently on the shoulder to wake him, folding back the blanket to expose Hanzo’s injured leg. Carefully, with deft fingers, Baptiste removed the dressing, then reached down to switch on the biotic field. He patted Hanzo on the shoulder and stepped out of the glowing circle.

Jack was already pouring coffee into another mug, and Baptiste accepted it gratefully. He was far more tired than he wanted to admit, and even black coffee was welcome, though not his favorite. “I’ll keep an eye on Hanzo. He should be good to travel by the time you two get back.”

Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually had a full night’s sleep, but Jesse was finding Baptiste a little less irritating today. “Thank you kindly,” he said, surprising both Jack and Baptiste with his deferential tone. He rinsed out his coffee mug and set it on the counter to dry, then went to get dressed.

*

The storm had thrown tree branches down all around the cabin, and at one place along the trail to the river they had to scramble over a newly-fallen tree. Jack made a mental note to come back and clear it when he had a chance. 

They could hear the river well before it was visible, and as soon as Jesse caught his first glimpse of the water through the trees, Jack left the trail, making for a large boulder with a hemlock sapling growing out of the top, just a few yards off the path. He bent over and pulled his fishing gear out of the bushes there.

“If I really wanted to preserve my cover, I should be getting out there to fish some more today,” Jack said, sounding almost wistful, as he began to disassemble his rod and reel, stowing it carefully away in its case. He’d chosen all his gear to be easy to pack in and out of backcountry fishing spots, and he was glad he’d had the foresight to do so all those years ago. "Alright," he said, slipping his arms through the straps of his bag and hitching it up onto his shoulders. "Let's head upriver."

Jesse was absorbing as much information as he could as they took a near-invisible path through the forest, following the curves of the river. About ten minutes from where Jack had hidden his gear, they turned away from the water and climbed a ways up the hillside, until they reached a small clearing protected on two sides by a granite outcrop. 

Jack pointed. "I believe Hanzo was up on those rocks when it all happened. When I arrived, he was in these bushes here." 

There were some broken branches and crushed ferns, but the whole area was littered with huge maple leaves and bits of evergreen that had been torn from the trees in the night. Jesse searched for traces of blood, but could find none. The rain and wind had done a more thorough cover-up than they could have asked for. He turned to the wall of stone and looked for a way up. With a bit of a scramble, he made it to the top, even with his cowboy boots on. Once there, he kept low to the ground until he could see what the exposure was like. 

About four feet up, there was a gap in the cover, and Jesse could look across the narrow river valley and just slightly down on the mine entrance. It was an exceptional viewpoint. He stepped out of the window in the trees and began to examine the area around where Hanzo had stood watch. His heart stopped when he saw it: a bit of golden silk tangled in a low-hanging branch, now sodden and full of fir needles. He knew it at once as Hanzo’s. Jesse carefully extricated the ribbon and cleaned it off before tucking it away in his pocket. Something about it tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t quite access what it reminded him of.

"Anything up there?" Jack asked. 

Jesse finished looking around and cast one more glance back at the Talon compound before beginning his descent. "No, nothing unusual," he lied as he landed on the forest floor. "And they don't look like they're on any kind of high alert or lockdown across the way. Just a few labor omnics and guys in coveralls. Maybe they wrote the whole thing off as a mistake."

Jack nodded. "We can hope. I haven't seen anything that indicates other people have been tramping around the woods over here, either. I guess we got lucky." Jesse shot him a look. "As lucky as we could be, considering," he amended. He stretched his shoulders as best he could with his fishing gear strapped to his back. "Let's head back."

*

Hanzo was dressed and packed, and sitting on the couch when they returned. He got to his feet when he saw Jesse and they embraced briefly. 

“You look like you’re all ready to go,” Jesse said.

Hanzo inclined his head in a half-nod. “Baptiste says I am to rest.”

Baptiste was back in his chair at the table, his bag at his side, ready to go as soon as Jack gave the all clear. “Yeah, I don’t want you back out on that dance floor for at least a week.” He winked at Hanzo. “But seriously, normal activities are fine, just no strenuous exercise or climbing. It’s healed, but no sense in straining the new tissue.”

Jack stowed his gear in the cabin’s one closet and closed the door. It felt like he was closing the door on a whole chapter of his life. He wondered briefly if he would ever be able to come back here and feel the same way about the place, about his memories of the good times he spent here. Then he turned to the other men, who all seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

“Well, it seems we’ve dodged a bullet, literally and figuratively. Let’s get the hell out of here before anyone across the river changes their mind. Unless you’ve got better ideas?” He looked mostly at Baptiste, assuming his inside knowledge of day-to-day Talon operations would be their best guide.

“I think going our separate ways would be best. I’ll be heading back through the forest to where the rest of my gear is cached. I assume Jesse and Hanzo will leave together? Then perhaps you will stay behind for a bit to close up and space out the travel pattern?”

Everyone was in agreement. Jack and Baptiste exchanged some contact details, and then the medic vanished into the woods behind the cabin.

“He seems on the level,” Jack said as Jesse secured what was left of his groceries on the back of his hoverbike. "He's trying to follow the supply chain for the counterfeit meds, apparently. I think that's what he really wanted to leak to you, Jess. The files he gave you were just a warm-up."

Jesse grunted. “If the two times I’ve met him are any indication, he’s like a bad penny, turning up when you least expect, and with troubling implications. Not sure I trust him as far as I can throw him.”

“He took care of me when he had no obligation to do so.” Hanzo’s voice was quiet, but carried a level strength.

Jesse looked into his lover’s eyes. This time he was the one who was unable to say aloud how he felt. So he remained silent, turning away and snapping the catches on the storage compartment closed with a little unnecessary force. He threw his leg over the bike and scooted forward so there would be room for Hanzo behind him. Hanzo adjusted his bag on his back and climbed on.

“See ya, Jack.” Jesse switched on the bike, the soft purr of its motor filling the clearing. Jack raised his hand in a wordless farewell, and stood watching as they backed around his ute and drove away. He turned back to the cabin and began his checklist for shutting it down for the winter.


	7. Dance (Epilogue)

They were relaxing together on the couch, Hanzo stretched out and leaning back against Jesse’s chest, scrolling through the week’s news on his tablet as Jesse idly stroked his hair and stared at the holographic flames in the fireplace. They were warm, and safe, and comfortable.

“What was that about dancing?” Jesse asked.

“Hmm?” Hanzo didn’t stop scrolling.

“Baptiste said something about no dancing until you’re recovered.”

Hanzo’s eyes were no longer focused on the words on his tablet. “Oh. I wanted to ask how my injury would affect movement, but I was confused. I believe I asked him if I would be able to dance.”

Jesse considered this for a moment. “Do you like to dance? I mean, it’s been almost two years and it’s never come up.”

“I do not often dance. The last time was indeed approximately two years ago.” The tablet had drifted down into Hanzo’s lap, and he rested his head on Jesse’s shoulder. “There was a nightclub in Hanamura when I was young. It was...safe.”

Jesse half-smiled and tilted his head until his cheek rested on Hanzo’s head. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Ah. Yes, I do occasionally enjoy dancing.”

“We should go sometime.”

“They do not play your kind of music.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy it. I’ve been to regular nightclubs and had fun, and danced, believe it or not. I’ve even been to a couple in Japan.” And then it clicked; he remembered what it was about the golden ribbon. It couldn’t be...could it? “We could get dressed up nice. I bet you’d look good with eyeliner. Have you ever worn eyeliner?”

“Mmm, I have, many years ago.”

His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard, and Jesse wondered if Hanzo could feel it. “Hey, uh, so I found your ribbon. Up there on the mountain.” Hanzo stiffened against him, but Jesse continued to hold him until he relaxed again. “I didn’t show Jack. That’s what they shot at, wasn’t it?”

Hanzo nodded against Jesse’s shoulder. “My hair...it was in the way. The ribbon was my only choice.”

“It’s okay, baby, I understand. But I gotta ask, do you have a habit of losing gold ribbons?”

Hanzo didn’t reply right away, trying to work out what Jesse was talking about. All the non sequiturs were losing him. “What do you mean?”

Jesse licked his lips. Here goes nothing, he thought. “I picked up another one a lot like it once, about, oh maybe fifteen years back? Dropped by a beautiful boy with long black hair that glittered in the light, a boy who wore dark eyeliner. I met him at a club in some Tokyo suburb, I never knew which one.”

“I am sure you could find many who fit such a description, especially in Tokyo.” Hanzo’s voice was dry and calm, but his head was spinning. He remembered a certain lean young Yank in a dark red shirt and cowboy boots.

“I think there is only one who could be that gorgeous,” Jesse murmured. “Hanzo, that ribbon was left in my bed. In my hotel room.”

Hanzo whispered a single syllable. “James.” The unreality of the situation stunned him. He’d almost begun to think that one night had been a dream. And not only had it been real, they’d somehow, miraculously, found each other again.

Jesse squeezed him even tighter. “Dammit, I thought I just had a type.” He laughed. “Turns out my taste was actually pretty damn specific. I saw him out there on that dance floor and I thought I’d never see another man that beautiful, and I didn’t, until I saw you. Hah, well, that sure explains some things.”

They were both quiet for a while, trying to understand how such a thing could have happened. Then Hanzo could feel Jesse's grin against his head. 

"Well, you know what this means, Han?" 

Hanzo expected some grand declaration about fate or destiny. "What?" 

"Now we DEFINITELY have to go dancing."


End file.
